50 Shades of Rabastan Lestrange
by Cyclothymic
Summary: Rabastan Lestrange: Death Eater extraordinaire, living in the shadow of his older brother and step-sister, growing up in a less-than-easy life. There's more than what meets the eye for one of the Dark Lord's most loyal followers. Written for the "50 Shades of..." and "Minor Character Boot Camp" challenges.
1. Velvet

**This collection is written for the "Minor Character Bootcamp" challenge, along with the "Fifty Shades of…" challenge. Enjoy.**

Velvet

It was a hair past noon on the 13th of November, 1959 when the Lestrange family was graced with another child. A beautiful baby boy with tan, flawless skin, a head of thick black hair and clear grey-blue eyes that would later darken into a deep forest green. Ophelia Lestrange, the child's mother, had sweat beads across her forehead, but reached out her frail arms to her child. The mediwitch placed him in her arms and she cooed, rubbing her thumb across the child's smooth forehead.

"He is not crying," she observed quietly, gazing into her child's eyes. Her eyes were the eyes that he would later inherit; he would wind up looking more like his mother than his father. His mother was tall and thin with the black hair and forest green eyes, and quite beautiful; his father was short and stocky, with brown hair and deep brown eyes, more burly than handsome. The baby's brother, Rodolphus, would wind up looking almost identical to the father. He would even one day have the twin snake and skull tattoo that his father did. Both of them would, in fact.

"Yes, er, sometimes they don't, Madam," the mediwitch stammered, severing the cord joining mother and son and cleaning up the baby with a few non verbal spells. The mother snapped her eyes to the mediwitch.

"Did you just use magic on my child?" her previously soft voice hardened as she stared at the mediwitch. The mediwitch was young, experienced, but obviously had not made too many house calls to purebloods; more likely than not, the woman was not pureblood, and had no idea how to interact with them, based on the shaking and stammering.

"Y-yes, madam, it's what we typically do-"

"I want you to leave." Madam Lestrange stared at her, her voice quiet, yet deadly. The mediwitch could hear the threat underlying her voice, and quickly stood up and swished her wand to collect her things; instead, the table next to the new mother blew up. Shielding her child with her hand, she calmly pulled her wand up from the space next to her with her other hand. Keeping one hand on the child's head, still stroking the smooth skin with her thumb, she pointed the wand at the mediwitch. "Avada kedavra." the room lit up in a bright green light. She put the wand down, turning her attention to the child in her arms.

"You will understand one day, little one," she whispered, smiling at her child. "Rabastan. Rabastan Acelin Lestrange. You will achieve great things one day." the child never took his gaze off of his mother throughout the entire ordeal, and her thumb never left the feel of his forehead; it was like velvet.

And that was how they were found when Rodolphus Lestrange entered the room hours later after his shift at the ministry; the dead body of the mediwitch near the doorway, and his wife lying in the bed, mesmerized by the feel of her son's forehead, murmuring a word to herself repeatedly.

"It's like velvet," she muttered to her husband, smiling at him. It was then, really, that they should've predicted her mental decline; he realized that she was saying "velvet" over, and over again.


	2. North

North

Rabastan grew up almost solely with his mother and brother; they were the only family that Rabastan knew. He knew the house elves more than he knew his own father. By the time that he was two, he could name his mother and Rodolphus, who was five years his elder, but his father he would need to be reminded who he was.

"That's your father, sweetheart," his mother reminded him, running her hand through his hair. It was slightly wavy, just like hers.

"Don't coddle him, Ophelia. The boy will learn who I am one day, and know the importance of what I am doing." Each night, he would collapse in his chair in the sitting room and wait for his wife to pour him a drink. She inevitably would, and he would nurse it while telling her his escapades of the night. Some days it was as simple as a raid on someones house, and other nights an entire village would be being burnt down. But no matter what it was, she would wait for him every night; some nights, she would be awake the entire night, not sleeping until he came home.

"I can't sleep without him next to me," she would justify to Rabastan, as though the child could understand what she was saying. One particularly late night, she kept Rabastan up with her, moving him every time he would begin to fall asleep. She had pulled him outside to the orchard, conjuring a blanket so that the two of them could lie down.

"There is Cassiopeia, which would've been your name if you were a girl, my love. And there are Ursa Major and Minor… and there is the North Star," she was speaking in a tone that wound up putting Rabastan to sleep as she named the constellations, but she paid him no mind. She spoke until her voice was giving out, describing the stories behind each of them.

"Just remember, Rabastan, if you ever are lost, all you need to do is find the North Star. It will lead you home." it was then that she looked to her side and realized that Rabastan had fallen asleep. His dark hair had fallen into his eyes, and his chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern that calmed Ophelia's rapid mind, until one phrase remained in it.

"Always find the North. Always find the North."


	3. Fingers

**A/N This one is darker. You've been warned.**

Fingers

Rabastan was sitting cross legged on the floor of his brother's bedroom, playing with his wand and twirling it between his fingers. Rodolphus was off somewhere else in the house; he'd just come home from his first year at Hogwarts, and Rabastan knew that since he was under 11, he wouldn't get in trouble for doing magic, even if it was with his brother's wand. He heard screaming down the stairs, which was typical in the Lestrange estate, but tried his hardest to ignore it, with his brother's transfiguration book laying in front of him. Practicing the movements with the wand, he tried to sound out the incantations.

"Ah-vi-fors," he tried to sound out, but the ornate box he found in one of the spare rooms stayed the same. He frowned, and tried it again. "Ah-vi-fors." Rabastan said the incantation several times before something happened with his wand; an electric blue light shot out of it when he finished speaking, hitting the box. Feathers grew out of the box, and Rabastan was almost too excited to notice the screaming match that was still going on downstairs. He flinched as he heard his mother scream, and covered his ears with his hands; knowing what he was doing was childish, even though he was only 6, he was glad that his brother was off doing something else. When he finally couldn't hear his mother screaming anymore, he slowly took his hands off of his head.

"Avifors," his voice shook, and nothing happened. With more conviction, he stated "avifors!" once more, and the blue light shot out once more; the box fully had transformed into a bird, and it cawed as it flew up to stand on one of the posts of Rodolphus' bed. Rabastan was grinning as he opened the window and the blue bird flew out of the house, and away from the insanity. His mother began screaming once more, but it was a different kind of scream; it sounded like she was in pain. Rabastan dropped his brother's wand on his bedside table where he found it and barrelled down the stairs; Rodolphus stopped him at the bottom of the second flight, saying that he didn't need to be down there, but not before Rabastan saw the reason why his mother was screaming.

She'd severed her own fingers with her wand.

"Why would you do this to me, Rodolphus?! Why?!" she was screaming, and Rabastan could see his father flinch and try to maintain his temper. She was brandishing her wand, using it as a tool to prevent him from coming anywhere near her to attempt to fix what she'd done to herself.

"Get your brother up the stairs," he commanded to Rodolphus and he nodded, ushering Rabastan up the stairs.

"Why?!" her screams echoed through the house and Rabastan could feel tears welling up in his eyes at the sound of his mother crying. The image of tears running down her face and her own blood on her arms haunted his memories and his dreams. Although she eventually let his father fix her hand, Rabastan flinched whenever he saw the scars on her hand that they couldn't make disappear, and whenever anyone would say the word 'fingers'.


End file.
